Don't Fall in Love
by ZoZo1770
Summary: The castle inhabitants are transformed back into their usual selves, Maestro Forte included. Can he learn to accept and love being human again and earn everyone's forgiveness, or will he be shunned to the side and forgotten about, just as he feared?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The spell is broken, and the castle inhabitants are transformed back into their usual selves, Maestro Forte included. Can he learn to accept and love being human again and earn everyone's forgiveness, or will he be shunned to the side and forgotten about, just as he feared?

* * *

><p>'Lumière! Cogsworth! Mrs Potts! Look at us!'<p>

Belle looked on in amazement. Just moments ago, she had been cradling the Beast's lifeless body on the gloomy castle tower. Gaston had plummeted to his death meters below, at the foot of the castle, and the servants had watched in sadness as the last petal of the rose withered and fell to the bottom of the bell jar. Little did Belle know that as soon as she had declared her love for the Beast, she had broken an enchantment placed on the castle ten years ago. Now, instead of the huge, fearsome-looking Beast, there stood the handsome, muscular Prince Adam, with blonde hair, cream-coloured skin, and eyes like sapphires, the only feature that had remained from before. They shared a kiss, then Belle stood back as she watched the servants transform one by one into their usual selves. The dark, dreary castle turned into a beautiful, brightly coloured palace. The ugly stone gargoyles turned into magnificent marble angels. The spell had been lifted!

Belle knew she had a lot to learn about the last decade. She had read about fairytales in her books, but she had never imagined that she would be living one.

'Master! Belle!' cried Cogsworth, practically jumping up and down in a mixture of what seemed like excitement and panic, 'We have no time to waste! There must be a wedding, a celebration, a ball! We must get things in order, and inform France that the prince has –'

'Cogsworth, calm down! We have plenty of time!' laughed Adam, 'what we need right now is a large dinner and to explain to Belle what just happened.'

'Right away, sir,' bowed Cogsworth. He rushed indoors and immediately started ordering the other servants about, quickly followed by Lumière and Mrs Potts. Adam turned to Belle, giving her his arm. She took it and they walked through the doors to the palace, after the other servants who had just gone in before them.

That evening, Belle, Adam and the servants celebrated with a feast in the dining hall. The room had been decorated and Mrs Potts had done a grand job of cooking every type of food one could think of: chicken, turkey, venison, beef, pork, potatoes, different vegetables and salads, fruits, bread, wine, cheeses, and much more. Over the table, Adam explained to Belle about the spell that the enchantress had put on the castle that fateful Christmas morning. Lumière told her about the history of the castle, and Cogsworth told her about all the previous monarchs that had ruled over France for hundreds of years. Belle listened intently, captivated. She reached across for a chicken leg, paying attention to every word that came from their mouths.

All of a sudden, they heard faint music coming from above them. It sounded like an organ. Everyone at the table stopped, and silence quickly fell among them all. Belle was holding the chicken leg a few inches from her open mouth, Lumière froze whilst pouring more wine for Babette, overflowing the glass, Mrs Potts stopped mid-sentence, and Cogsworth had paused whilst leaning across the table for a napkin. Unable to hold his balance, he nearly fell headfirst into the bowl of potato salad in front of him. They all looked in the direction of the ceiling. It was not the sound of the organ playing that startled them; it was the question of _who_ could be playing it? There was no doubt that the music room had been restored during the palace's transformation, so of course the organ had probably materialised, too, but surely there was nobody up there _playing it_? All the palace servants, including Fife and the musicians, were down at the table.

Everyone was thinking the same thing, but it was Adam who spoke it.

'I only know one man who could be playing like that,' he whispered with a frown.

'But he's – he's _dead_!' said Fife nervously. 'We watched him die before our eyes, remember?'

'Perhaps he didn't die…' breathed Belle. 'He could have just been unconscious. It's been nearly six months since he tried to… kill us all, and we haven't set foot in that room since. Perhaps he's alive and was also included in the spell!'

'But _'ow_ could he still be alive, ma chère?' asked Lumière, 'after we servants came in to see what 'ad 'appened, he was barely recognisable! 'Ow could he have survived zat?'

Nobody answered. Finally, Adam stood up and strode towards the door.

'Where are you going?' asked Belle.

'The music room… I want to know if it really is him,' replied Adam.

'I'm coming with you!' said Belle, and went to join him.

They walked briskly out of the door and into the long hallway, leaving the servants at the table. They hurried past a number of doors until they reached a long, winding staircase that lead to the second floor. They climbed it and arrived at the end of another corridor, this one overlooking the main hallway. The music was becoming considerable louder and more recognisable as they were nearing the entrance to the music room. _Beethoven's 5th_. The piece of music that had almost destroyed the palace and killed all of its inhabitants.

Adam and Belle had now reached the entrance to the music room. They looked at each other, hesitating, then Adam reached for the handle and threw open the door.

They saw a tall, thin man playing the huge, gold organ that covered most of the back wall. He had his back to them, and did not seem to notice the door opening as he glided gracefully across the keys of the organ. He wore a grey wig on his head, a black tailcoat, a white shirt, navy breeches, grey-white tights and black buckled shoes.

'It's him…' gasped Belle, half to herself than to Adam. This… man, or _pipe organ,_ was supposed to be dead! Adam, Belle and Fife had _watched _him perish right before their very eyes, six months ago! Yet here he was, clear as anything, sitting in front of them playing the organ. The former court composer. Belle found herself slowly walking towards him… the man who seemed so lost in the music around him, oblivious to everything else.

'Belle!' breathed Adam, standing in the doorway, 'this man tried to kill us all… don't… stay away from him…'

She did not know why she was doing it, why she was inching towards him. She half-expected him to be a ghost, a phantom… yet she told herself he was not. He had survived… he had been alive these past six months… but how?

She was no more than a few inches away from him now. Part of her did not want to disturb him, yet she felt that she had to see if he was real. He was not a spirit, was he? Before she knew it, she had reached out and gently placed her hand on his bony shoulder.

He immediately stopped playing with a gasp and whipped around to face her. He was pale and gaunt, and he had black, arched eyebrows and thin lips that curled downwards into a sneer. He had high cheekbones and cold, black eyes that bore into anyone who looked into them. He looked both annoyed and alarmed at being disturbed.

Belle looked into his eyes. He _was_ real. _He was alive!_ He looked so much more _frightening_ as a human. After what seemed like hours of tense, undisturbed silence, she dared to speak.

'Maestro… Forte!'


	2. Chapter 2

Forte had lost count of the number of days he lay on the cold, stone floor of the huge, dark music room. He was no use to anyone, not in this state. A wrecked pipe organ, sheet music strewn all over the floor… everyone must think he was dead. Nobody came in anymore… it was as though they were reluctant, _afraid_, even. But what was there to be afraid of? After all, he was _dead_, wasn't he?

No, he wasn't. But they didn't know that. He never bothered crying for help. He was too weak. Anyway, the Beast would not need him now anymore than he did when they were all human. What good would a broken organ do? It was exactly as he predicted, but worse.

He tried to move, but to no avail – all he did was make the ground shake. He sighed, closing his eyes. If this was how he was to spend the rest of his life, then he wanted to die! But he was sure of one thing: he never, _ever_, wanted to be human again.

Wait a minute. The ground was still shaking, but how? He had given up on trying getting up. He had been imagining it, he was sure of it. No, he wasn't! It was shaking more violently now, and the rumbling was getting louder. What was happening?

Suddenly, he saw the room change dramatically before his eyes. The walls turned from dark grey to brilliant white, the stone floor was immediately covered in shiny pearl coloured tiles, a gold desk and a smart red velvet chair stood in one corner of the room, a marble statue in the other.

Forte felt himself being pulled upwards by an invisible force, and a burst of light appeared from the centre of the room. Light so bright, Forte had to shield his eyes in order not to become blinded by it –

Shield his eyes? With what? He had no arms, he was an organ… or was he? Come to think of it, he felt strangely light, as though a huge weight had been taken off him.

Then it dawned on him.

Daring to look down at his body, he saw not a jumbled mess of gold metal, but a human torso complete with arms and legs. He examined his hands – pale yet elegant, with long, spidery fingers. No… no, _no_! How could this be? Why? He wanted to remain how he was! _Who_ could have broken the spell?

He gasped in realisation. The girl! He hadn't killed her with his music after all. She lived, and she had broken the spell…

'Dammit!' he growled angrily.

Forte was now being lowered to the ground. He felt _strange_. He hadn't walked about in ten years. Then he thought – if _he_ was human, surely the other servants had been transformed, too? He walked towards the window and looked out of it, and saw exactly what he thought he would. On the veranda below him, he saw Lumière, Cogsworth, Mrs Potts, Chip, Belle and… a _prince_? Who was –?

Ah, of course. The master. The _Beast._ Except he wasn't brown and furry, with sharp fangs and massive claws. No, he looked just like he did ten years ago, but taller. Blonde hair, large blue eyes… probably as rude and arrogant as he had been before the spell, too. He probably hadn't changed at all. They were all celebrating at the fact that they were human again… how stupid. It wasn't that great being human. They would never have understood what it had been like for him before… the way he was never needed or wanted by anyone, the way the prince found his music gloomy and annoying, the way the other servants always moved away from him whenever he neared them…

He turned away from the window and looked around the new music room around him. A huge pipe organ covered the back wall, a feature that he hadn't noticed before. He inched towards it. It had been ten years, _ten years_, since he had touched the keys of the organ. Could he risk playing it without being heard by the others? He argued with the voices in his head.

_Play it._

Should I?

_Of course._

I don't know.

_Go on… you know you want to…_

They'll hear me downstairs! This organ can be heard anywhere in the palace!

_They all think you're dead. They'll wonder if they are imagining it._

That's true…

_How many years has it been? You know you long to play on it…_

Surely it wouldn't hurt just to play _one_ piece on it? He sat on the stool in front of the keys, adjusted it to fit his height, and started to play.

His fingers danced across the keys gracefully, and his body swayed as he played. He closed his eyes and listened to the music as it filled the room, a half-smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he let the sounds wash over him. This was the only positive aspect of being human again. He played for minutes on end, becoming lost in the world that the music was creating around him. The ivory keys were light under his fingers as he played perfect ornaments and arpeggios, so crisp and smooth, his body swaying and moving up and down the keyboard with ease. He was oblivious to everything except the music. He noticed nothing else, _nothing_.

That was until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped, his hands leaping off the keys. He quickly turned around and found himself face to face with… the _girl_. Belle. She hadn't changed either. Light skin, warm, brown eyes and soft brown hair; she was wearing her blue dress with her white apron. Her expression was a mixture of fear, wonder and shock… just as he expected.

She looked like a statue, unmoving. She seemed surprised to see his face. They glared at each other for about a minute or so, and then she spoke his name.

'Belle,' he replied coldly. He then spotted Adam standing behind her. '_Master…_' he drawled.

Adam walked towards him angrily.

'You're supposed to be dead!' he said, stopping about a foot away from Forte.

Forte laughed. 'Couldn't get rid of me _that_ easily, could you?'

'But Maestro…' whispered Belle, 'with all due respect… we saw you – you weren't moving – we assumed you had – '

'Were you really that _naïve _to think that I was dead?' he spat, 'Tell me, how can a pipe organ die? It has no heart, no brain, nothing! Just metal! Yes, I _fell from the wall_. That was it. I gather none of you came back after that day. But I was still there… day after day… week after week… _month after month_.'

There was a pause. Belle looked away, fidgeting.

'I guess I'll be going,' Forte continued, tearing his gaze away from Belle and getting up to move towards the door, 'after all, what use will I be to you? The moody, dark, court composer amidst all these festivities, bound to be a killjoy… nobody wants _that_, do they? I'm sure you don't want _me _here, either.'

Adam said nothing.

'W-where will you go?' asked Belle timidly.

'Oh, Calais, perhaps. Toulouse. I might even escape France altogether. Germany, maybe. Greece, _Japan_...'

'Stay!' said Belle suddenly, looking from Forte to Adam. They both stared at her in shock.

'_What?_' they said in unison.

'Belle,' began Adam, moving quickly towards her and whispering in her ear, 'you can't be serious… he has to go… he doesn't want to stay here any more than I want him to… and Fife has taken his place – he's right: what use will he be to us?'

She looked at her prince.

'Where else will he go?' Belle asked, 'besides, maybe we could talk to him about… we will find a use for him – but we can't just throw him out, not like this.'

They looked at each other. Finally, Adam nodded reluctantly, then walked out, leaving Belle and Forte alone.

'Why?' asked Forte. His expression was unreadable.

'You need to explain what your motives were that day you tried to kill us all… and, to tell you the truth, I think there is more to you than meets the eye.'

A flitter of shock showed on Forte's face, but was soon replaced by his usual sour expression.

'Anyway,' she continued, 'I just couldn't bring myself to let you go like this…'

This time it was his turn to look away.

'I don't know why you're being kind to me,' he said quietly, 'I was expecting you to just leave me to get on with the rest of my life! But, I suppose the prince is still my master – and when you get married you will rule alongside him… so I haven't got any choice but to stay, have I?'

'I hope that we can get along, Maestro,' Belle said kindly, 'no, I haven't forgotten about what you did and some time during the next few weeks I hope we can talk about it. As for now, however… your room is exactly how it was – we haven't touched it. I'm not sure when the other servants were planning to go in there and clear it out but seeing as you're… alive… there won't be any need for that…'

With that, she smiled gently at him and left the room, leaving Forte to think about what he had just heard. He didn't deserve her kindness... or her _pity_.

_I hope that we can get along, Maestro._

Get along? He wanted nothing to do with this wretched girl! She had ruined all his plans to stay as a pipe organ, which had been the only time when he felt wanted, and now she wanted them both to get along! But she had been right about something else...

_I think there is more to you than meets the eye_.

'Maybe there is, Belle,' he muttered to himself, 'maybe there is.'


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The weeks went by, and word had now spread throughout the castle about Forte's return. He and Fife now worked together as the palace court composers, much to Fife's dislike.

'Aw, but it's been only six months! Why does there have to be _two_ composers? All these years of being an apprentice and when I finally… never mind. It's just not fair…' he had complained when Belle tried to gently break the news to him.

However, the other servants were behaving strangely towards Forte. Whenever he entered the room, most of them would avoid his eye and some would walk straight out. He seemed to make them uncomfortable, _frightened_… which, he supposed, was a good thing. He rarely saw or spoke to anyone else - only at mealtimes, however, when all the palace inhabitants ate together, and even then Forte would eat in silence and leave the table before the others in order to avoid being dragged into conversation by the few people who did not fear him.

'Come on, dear, it'll be a good excuse to get to know everyone again!' Mrs Potts had said when he had protested and requested that he eat alone in his room. 'I'm not having you all on your own upstairs while the rest of us are down in the dining hall!'

But, aside from mealtimes, Forte spent most of his time alone, anyway, composing in the music room. Although he and Fife had been asked to work together, Forte spent his time at the organ whilst Fife stayed at the desk on the other side of the room. It was clear that neither of them wanted much to do with each other, and as a result each one let the other get on with his own work.

One night, Forte was making his way back to his room before dinner. He had spent most of his day, as usual, in silence whilst he wrote his latest composition. He strode down the long corridors of the castle, passing almost every room there was – the dining hall, the ballroom, the many guest rooms and bathrooms, the kitchens, the lounge, and many more. As he was passing the library, however, he heard voices talking, and paused outside the closed door. One sounded angry, resentful, while the other sounded calmer and tried to soothe the first one. The master and Belle. He went to carry on to his bedroom, for it was no business of his to eavesdrop on their conversation.

'…you know I don't like Forte…'

He stopped.

'I _told_ you, just give him time! He'll come around eventually…'

He backed up against the wall around the corner.

'Time? He's had weeks! And he still hasn't apologised! Belle, he tried to kill you!'

He listened.

'Adam, love, listen –'

'No, _you_ listen. I'm doing this for you. If you hadn't been there when he… _resurrected_, I would have thrown him out straight away. I don't care what he was thinking – he's twisted, he's evil! He's a danger to us all…'

'You are so… _hardhearted_! I'm trying to make you see that it is worth giving him a second chance – a chance to explain himself!'

'I don't _want_ to give him a second chance! I told you, the only reason he's still in this palace is for _you_! That's it! But I can't even _look_ at him after what he did. If you think that it is right to give him a chance to explain, then fine – _you_ talk to him, and soon! But I can't stand living in the same palace as a _madman_!'

'Adam! What's gotten into you? I feel like I'm talking to a – a – cruel – bitter – you're such a – you _beast_!'

There was a pause.

'Take that back,' Adam murmured quietly.

There was no answer.

'I _said_ take that _back_!'

'_No_!'

Forte heard the master roar in rage. He stood back as he saw the library doors being thrown open and a furious looking prince storm out of them in anger. Moments later he saw Belle walking briskly after him.

Forte sat on his bed that evening after dinner. As usual, he had avoided conversation and he scarcely ate anything in his rush to leave. He did, however, out of the corner of his eye, notice the master glaring at him from the other end of the table.

The _master_. The cold, hard-hearted, unforgiving _beast_.

_The only reason he's still in this palace is for you! I can't even look at him after what he did…_

Perhaps it would have been best if Belle wasn't there… if he had just left when he was discovered. Or perhaps he should just apologise…

What? No! Apologise to the master? _Never_. He mentally scolded himself for thinking such a thing. Why should he be the one to apologise? Over twenty years of serving and being ordered about by this lazy, insolent, disrespectful little _brat_, and yet _he_ should be the one to apologise? One could hardly blame him for acting the way he did! _Bolted to the wall_ for nearly a decade, finally needed after years and years of being shunned to the side and he was expected to _apologise_!

But then another voice in his head reminded him of what Belle had said.

_It is worth giving him a second chance – a chance to explain himself!_

He was still surprised about the way Belle had reacted. He had expected her give in and agree with the master, yet she was still kind, friendly… _patient_.

That was it. Nobody had ever been patient with him before. He was not used to it. He had never met a person, especially a girl, who was patient enough to wait. Would Belle be patient enough to listen to what he had to say for himself, too? Should he go and find her – would she be prepared to listen to him? Should he tell her what was going through his head the night he tried to murder everyone? Would she accept him? Could he change? Or would she see him for what the master said he was – twisted, evil, a _madman_?


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

'Monsieur Forte?'

Forte stopped composing and swivelled around to face Belle. She had a look of apprehensiveness on her face as she walked cautiously towards him.

'Good evening, Belle,' Forte murmured, glancing up at her.

'I was wondering if we could… talk…'

Forte knew this was coming. Sighing, he stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, where he picked up the chair from the desk and settled it near the organ. Fife was in the library searching for a particular type of sheet music book, so Forte had the room to himself. It seemed that Belle had also seen this as an opportunity to speak to Forte in private.

'Sit down,' he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. Belle lowered herself onto it, folding her hands in her lap. 'Well…?'

'I think it's best if we get straight to the point,' she said gently, looking into his cold, black eyes, 'I've been meaning to talk with you about your actions… what were you thinking on the night you tried to… kill everyone? What was your reason? I don't understand…'

He snorted.

'I thought Fife would have told you by now,' he muttered, looking away. She shook her head.

'He hasn't said a word… and, to tell you the truth, we – I haven't brought the subject up around him…'

'I see.'

There was a long pause. Finally, he looked at her again and spoke.

'Belle… I'm assuming you have been told about life here before the enchantment was placed on the palace?'

'Yes – a little,' was the quiet reply.

'Did the master ever tell you about his family, his childhood?'

'Well, he mentioned that his father was king before him and…' Her voice trailed away. 'That's all, really,' she said, shrugging.

'Let me tell you a little about Prince Adam, then,' Forte said, leaning against the organ, interlocking his long fingers in his lap. 'He… he did not have an easy childhood… he never knew his mother, for she died in childbirth. His father, I remember, took his own life years afterwards. We found him in the lounge with a gaping hole in his chest and a dagger in his hand – blood everywhere. The master was just a child, and he was already an orphan. His uncle became king in his father's place, and it was the servants' duty to look after him. Of course, we could not let the prince, who was just six years old at the time, see his own father lying dead, and none of us could bring ourselves to tell him the truth, so for years afterwards, we lied to him. We said that his father had gone away… on business. He always asked us when he was coming back, and we never knew what to say. Some of the servants changed the subject, others pretended to be late for an appointment and quickly rushed off… but we knew he was going to have to find out sooner or later. We all knew it was terrible to be hiding such a thing from a child, but what were we supposed to say? "Adam, your mother died giving birth to you and your father decided to kill himself because of the grief"?

'However, when the master turned twelve, we decided it was time for him to know the truth. The look in his eyes when he found out… it broke our hearts. We felt terrible for lying to him, Belle, and he could not believe it. He sat there in silence for minutes on end, not wanting to believe that his father was dead, not wanting to believe that we had lied to him all these years. He had always hoped that his father would come home one day to see him… and now, of course, he wouldn't.'

Forte gazed at Belle.

'The thing you must understand, Belle, is that I was never always like this… so closed, so reserved… and nor was the master. Before we broke the news, he was happy and he loved us all like we were his family. In turn, we loved him back. He was so enthusiastic, always wanting to help Mrs Potts pour the tea, Babette with the dusting... we loved his liveliness. He would often come and sit in this very room and listen to me play the organ for hours. He even wanted to learn himself.'

Forte closed his eyes, remembering. He saw the young, innocent, naïve Prince Adam's round face, his large blue eyes wide with curiosity, asking questions about the world outside the palace. He remembered how the young prince would sometimes sit beside him, his chubby fingers hammering away at the keys of the organ, trying to produce the music that he had so often heard Forte play. Forte remembered teaching him, explaining patiently the science behind each key, telling him how each note of music was conjured up. Then he remembered, with a pang, the prince's face as the servants tried to gently explain to him what had really happened the night his father seemed to vanish. Forte's eyes suddenly snapped open, not wanting to be reminded. He took a moment to gather himself and continued.

'But _after_ he found out what had happened… he changed. The usual spark in his eyes vanished. He became cold and cruel, selfish and bitter. He no longer wanted to help the servants, and he ordered us about like _slaves_. He felt that he had not been good enough for his father, and that he was the reason he killed himself. He was consumed with guilt, believing it was his own fault. We assured him it wasn't, but he wouldn't have any of it. However, most of the servants had patience. He was twelve years old, not even a teenager, so of course he was going through difficult times. We all thought it would pass, but it didn't. He turned into a bossy young man with all the manners of a teaspoon. What saddened me the most was that he no longer sat beside me, eager to listen to what I was playing, to learn how to play masterpieces on the organ… I used to love him like he was my own son, but now… everything I played annoyed him. He found it depressing, gloomy, _boring_. In the end I did not bother trying to persuade him to come to the music room like he used to because I knew my efforts would be in vain. I grew to dislike him, perhaps even _hate_ him a little. Although for some reason I still don't quite understand, the other servants would talk to me less and less, too. I didn't speak with them much as it was, but we had the odd conversation here and there. I kept myself to myself. I began to feel less… wanted. Needed. This also began to show through my music, which soon became my only way to speak. The other servants complained that my music was always dark, sad, minor. But that's how I felt – _minor_. A few months later Fife joined the castle, and it was up to me to teach him. He was my apprentice, and even though he showed a little eagerness, it was not the same. He was frightened of me.'

He hesitated.

'And then…?' Asked Belle, not taking her eyes off the maestro.

'Well, as I'm sure you know, along came Christmas Day. The master was now fifteen. He hated all his gifts – a story book from Lumière, a notebook and a pen from Cogsworth, a new jacket from Mrs Potts… I composed a piece for him. I put every inch of effort into it, daring to hope that he would like it, just as he used to love all my compositions. "Ugh, I _hate_ it! Forte, that stuff is gloomy…" was his response. Then there was a knock at the door – the old beggar woman. She asked for shelter in exchange for a rose and the master turned her away, then her ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress… you know the rest.'

'But… that still doesn't explain your actions that night,' replied Belle, her eyes shining.

'Ah, Belle, you see, when the master was turned into the beast by the enchantress, I suddenly became important to him once again,' Forte whispered, 'I was the only one who could calm him down, soothe him… my music _healed_ his pain. He told me himself – "_your music is the only thing that makes me forget_" - He _needed_ me…'

'Your music _manipulated_ him!' exclaimed Belle, 'he told me how he was _so_ _close_ to destroying the rose because _you_ told him to!'

'Yes, but he saw _your_ gift which prompted him to stop!' Forte's voice had gotten louder now, 'What does that tell you, Belle? I told him, _don't fall in love_, I told him lies about you in order to split you both up! I told him to destroy the rose so that I would remain how I was forever! I told him _you_ were just prolonging his torment because I didn't _want_ you to break the spell! I wanted to _stay as I was_! That was the only time when I felt needed, _wanted_ by him again, I was his _cher ami_! He asked my advice; he came to me for help! And then _you_ came along and _ruined it_!'

'_Ruined it_?' Belle stood up, her cheeks flaming, 'How was I supposed to know how you felt? The other servants couldn't wait to be human again – did you want to ruin their dreams, too? Anyone would have thought you would have longed to become human after a decade of being a solid lump of metal. The prince hated himself and instead of encouraging him that things would be back to normal again you had to – _you_ were the one tormenting him, playing with his mind, not me! You were selfish!'

She glared at him, breathing heavily. She could not believe she had just raised her voice at Forte, but something had taken over her and she lost control. She sat back down slowly.

Forte laughed.

'Selfish, is that what you call it?' he chuckled, his eyes glinting, 'I _see_… I was selfish because I wanted things to be how they used to be between the master and I? Because I wanted to feel important, after years of being shunned to the side? You have no idea how it was for me, Belle…'

He looked away from her. 'I feared it was going to turn out like this – and I was right,' he breathed, 'I wanted to prevent it – I didn't know what else to do! The master would no longer listen to me – he loved you too much. So I did the only thing possible – I tried to kill you both. You couldn't have fallen in love with each other if you were _dead_, now, could you?'

Belle stared at Forte, horrified, shocked at what she had heard. Forte had tried to kill her because being an organ made him feel important, _wanted_.

A deadly silence fell across them both. Finally, Belle spoke.

'I… I didn't know you felt that way,' she whispered.

'Humph. I wouldn't have expected you to. After all, who would know, or care about, the feelings of the remote little organist, whom nobody talks to?'

'Don't say that…' replied Belle, fidgeting.

Forte hesitated.

'Look at me, Belle,' murmured Forte. Belle met his eyes. 'Don't think I don't feel guilty about what I did. I have a heart, and a conscience, too. I can feel emotion, just like everyone else. I – I heard you arguing with the master last night and… I am grateful that you have given me a chance to explain myself.' His voice was barely a whisper now. 'I do apologise, Belle, and… I hope that you can… forgive me…'

For the first time, Belle saw something other than coldness and serenity in his face. He looked wracked with guilt, and his eyes had lost the usual glint that they held. His expression was no longer impassive, but it looked meek, remorseful. His gaze seemed to be distant, and his voice did not contain a note of pride, for now it was quiet and ashamed.

'Of course…' she said quietly, 'of course _I'll_ forgive you… but I suggest you apologise to Adam, too…'

'I know the master is angry with me. I doubt he will accept my apology. All the same…'

'Maestro, he _has_ changed, for the better.' She stood up and walked towards him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'When I fell in love with the Beast, I fell in love with a person, not his appearance. He tried so hard to change his savage ways, and he succeeded. He asked for forgiveness and for a second chance, and he got it. Everyone deserves a second chance… and a third. Maybe a fourth. Perhaps even a _fifth_. Yes, he might occasionally have a bit of a temper, but, then again, everyone does. Everyone makes mistakes, Maestro. I think, I _know_, that, deep down, the young, child-like, curious, innocent little boy is still there inside him… I think _you_ are the only person who can bring him out again.'

Forte stood up, facing her.

'_Me_?' he inquired.

'You.'

With that, she stood on her toes and briefly kissed Forte on the cheek. She smiled up at him. It was a warm, cheerful smile – a true one – one that he had not seen in a long time.

Forte half-smiled back at her, his eyes glinting again. This time, however, the glint was not of malevolence, but of happiness.

'Dinner's ready!' called Mrs Potts from downstairs.

Belle skipped towards the door before turning back to face Forte.

'Coming?' she asked him eagerly.

'I'll be down in a minute… I need to finish a few more bars of this piece,' he replied, gesturing to the unfinished piece on his manuscript.

'Don't be long!' she said, and she bounded out of the room and down the stairs.

Maybe the girl – _Belle _– wasn't so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Forte stood outside the master's chambers. Perhaps he should just go back to the music room and come back another day… _no_. He had promised Belle that he would talk to the master. Besides… he had a conscience to clear. But what if the master did not forgive him – then what? No, he could not allow himself to think like this. He raised a pale fist and knocked three times on the dark, oak door.

After what seemed like hours, the door slowly opened.

Forte came face to face with the master. He eyed him up and down, his sapphire-like eyes raking over Forte's slender form.

'Can I help you?' he asked coolly, folding his arms.

'Your Majesty,' Forte said, bowing deeply. 'I – I need to talk with you. If – if it's convenient, that is…'

Adam wordlessly motioned for Forte to follow him. They stepped through the doorway into a large circular room. The floor was covered in a red and gold carpet and the walls were lined with shelves of books. There were a few doors leading out of the room and a couple of velvet armchairs stood in the centre of it, opposite a dark writing desk. Adam gestured towards one of the armchairs and sat down in the other. He watched as Forte lowered himself down into the armchair before speaking.

'Well…?'

'Master,' Forte murmured, looking at his feet, 'I… I came to apologise for my actions…' He looked up at Adam. 'I know what I did that night was wrong, but you have to understand… there was a reason behind it.'

'Humph. About time. But that's what they always say, isn't it, Forte?' Adam replied quietly. '"You don't understand, I had a reason…" But sometimes that reason isn't good enough… sometimes, Forte, the crime that was committed did not have a good enough reason behind it… why, some people might even think it… _unforgivable_…'

Forte was silent. He should have known it would come to this. Of course the master would never forgive him… why had he even bothered coming?

Because Belle had asked him to. Because he missed the old master, because he wanted him back.

'What _was_ your reason, Forte?' Adam asked calmly, gazing at Forte.

Forte fidgeted. 'Master, I… I wanted things to stay the way they were. I didn't want you to fall in love… I was scared.'

'Scared? Scared of _what_?'

'Scared of not being wanted and shunned to the side, just like when we were all human ten years ago!'

Now it was Adam's turn to fall silent. 'W-what?'

Forte swallowed, tearing his gaze away from Adam. 'Do you remember life all those years ago, Master? Before you found out your father had died? I… I loved you like you were my own son. I would take pride in watching you grow up, learn new things – all the servants did. You were so full of life, you brightened up anybody's day! I would always look forward to the next time you came to visit me in the music room, ready to learn a new sonata on the organ, or just to listen to me play. Then… then we told you the truth and you – you _changed_. You became cold, bitter. We began to lose you, master… You were no longer the bouncy, happy child we had known all our lives. You ordered us around, you insulted us, you were rude and bad-mannered, you –'

'Forte, I had found out that you all had been lying to me for six years!' Adam growled, 'I always dreamed that one day, my father would come back for me, and we would catch up on all that had happened during the time in which he'd been away. Imagine how I felt when I found out that my father had killed himself? I felt that I was never good enough, that he would never love me, his own _son_, the way he loved my mother – and you're telling me that _you_ felt unwanted?'

'But we all assumed that you were unkind towards everyone because you were just trying to deal with the news. We did not think, however, that it would last forever! It would have, wouldn't it, if it wasn't for the enchantress and Belle who made you see sense? I missed that _closeness_ that I shared with you, master. You and me, we had a bond… and you broke it! However, when the castle was placed under the enchantment, you suddenly wanted me again! You came to me seeking help, advice. You needed me. I calmed you down; I made you forget your troubles.' Forte gripped the sides of the armchair tightly, his knuckles turning whiter than they were already. His voice was growing considerably louder. 'When Belle came along,' he spat, 'I was suddenly worried that she would fall in love with you, break the spell and that you would once again see me as the dark, moody organist who composed gloomy, _depressing_ music and to whom nobody spoke or even _acknowledged_!'

Adam stood up and circled the room.

'Master,' Forte spluttered, 'Forgive me, I do not know what came over me –'

'I might have seen you as the skilled composer who fascinated me when he played the organ, the teacher who I looked up to all those years ago,' Adam whispered, stopping behind Forte.

Forte said nothing, his eyes fixed on the empty armchair in front of him.

'And I might have hoped that you would see me as the innocent, enthusiastic child that would always be eager to learn from his maestro of a teacher,' he continued, walking slowly back to the armchair and sitting in it.

There was a long, uneasy silence. It was during that silence that Forte realised… he and Adam had something in common. After all, they both had felt unwanted at some point before the enchantment, they both had to struggle to find that love that they yearned for… maybe things could be back the way they were before? He looked into the prince's face and saw, for the first time in over a decade, not the brave, strong, noble man that the Beast had transformed into, nor did he see the savage, bad-tempered Beast himself. He saw a child. A young child, full of questions, eager to learn, _carefree_.

Forte remembered what Belle had said to him before.

_I know that, deep down, the young, child-like, curious, innocent little boy is still there inside him… I think _you_ are the only person who can bring him out again. _Perhaps she was right.

'Belle brought out the best in me, Forte,' Adam breathed, 'she changed me… for the better, of course. At times, it was not only your music that soothed me, but it was her, too… she made me happy. Did you honestly think that, after the spell was broken, things would be back to how they were? That I would suddenly go back to being the unkind person I was before? That would have been impossible. I don't know why you didn't see that.'

'What was I supposed to think?' Forte hissed, 'I didn't want things to change. I finally got some attention from you after being ignored for years – I didn't want to lose that _closeness_ that we had. I had already lost it once. I didn't want it to slip away again… and I'm sure you didn't want it to, either. You must have missed it a little, mustn't you? Surely…'

He trailed off, staring intently at the prince, who in turn was looking at the floor.

'I missed it, yes,' Adam admitted, 'I won't deny that…'

'Surely you want things back to how they were?'

'Yes…' came the quiet reply¸ 'but Forte,' the prince said, looking up, 'it can't happen overnight. I'm not like Belle; I can't just forgive and forget as easily as she does, much as I would like to. There's… there's still a part of me that wonders if you'll try to harm her again.'

Forte chose his words carefully.

'Master, what's done is done; we cannot change the past. I am sorry and, believe me, if I could go back in time and change what I did, I would. But that cannot happen. However, I do believe that life _can_ and _will_ be… back to normal, if we both give each other a chance.'

After a brief pause, Adam nodded.

'Thank you.'

Forte then stood up. 'I will not trouble you any further, Master. Thank you for your time.'

He bowed, then headed towards the door.

'Forte,' Adam said.

Forte turned around, his hand resting on the door handle. 'Yes, Your Majesty?'

'Thank you for coming to see me.'

Forte bowed again, then exited the room.

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><p>Sorry for the wait! Having a massive case of writer's block - that's never good. Thanks for all your reviews, keep them coming!<p>

The Green Archer: Thanks for your reviews! As you probably noticed in this chapter, I incorporated your point about Prince Adam and Forte being similar. I hadn't noticed it before, so thanks for pointing it out to me. Also, you may rest assured that there won't be much Forte/Belle romance in this fic, and yes, the little bit that there is of it will remain one-sided (Forte's side, that is). Much as I would like to put them together to see what happens, it will probably be in another fic. :)


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

'But – but LeFou! Are… are you sure about this?'

'What is there to be unsure about? Look, we're gonna avenge Gaston's death, do I really need to spell it out for you? I'm gonna go to that palace and I won't come back until that _monster_ is dead… and I'll mount his head on my wall as a reminder.'

Back in the heart of the village, LeFou was sitting in the local tavern among a gang of the few followers he had left since Gaston's demise. Most of the mob who had supported Gaston had fled after hearing of his death, fearing the beast, but a handful had remained loyal to his best friend and wanted revenge. They did not, however, know that the beast in fact was now a prince and the spell had been lifted, so here they were, about nine or ten of them, gathered together in the pub. It was a small, dingy sort of place, with a few small, round tables dotted around the room and a dusty bar along the back wall. There were a couple of ugly paintings hanging up on the mustard-coloured walls and the pub itself was empty apart from LeFou and his gang, which included the bartender. LeFou was sitting on a table clutching a rather large mug of ale in his hands, facing the group of supporters.

'LeFou,' said a middle-aged man whose name was Jacques, quietly, 'what if the beast kills _you_ this time? I mean, come on, we all thought Gaston was practically invincible and look what happened. He ended up falling to his death –'

'Ah!' smiled LeFou, 'the beast didn't kill him; he lost his balance and fell while he was clinging on to the edge of the tower. I know he was my best friend, but if he hadn't been stupid enough to go climbing up there, he would still be alive and he would have finished that creature off once and for all… but he still wounded it pretty badly, though, didn't he? I heard its roars from the other side of the castle! And besides, that idiot of a beast had a pretty hard time fighting off Gaston, so it won't stand a chance against ten of us… we just have to make sure we bring weapons strong enough to smash up all that moving furniture before it gets a chance to get us like last time.'

LeFou chuckled, and then drained the mug of beer.

'Uh, Lefou?' muttered a small, skinny man named Pierre, 'I think the reason all that furniture was waiting for us was because we were making so much noise and holding torches in the middle of the night! They knew we were coming from miles away. This time, shouldn't we just, I dunno, sneak through a window or something instead of trying to break down the door, waking up the whole of France in the process?'

The others nodded their approval. 'Yeah, good idea…' said Jacques, 'from what I remember, there were quite a few ground floor windows. We could just – no, how are we going to open it from the outside, you dolt! Perhaps we could just pick the lock on the main door? It must be quite weak from our smashing it down last time.'

LeFou nodded at this idea.

'Aw, guys, c'mon! You make it sound so simple!' piped up the bartender, André, 'this is gonna be much harder than it sounds, without the hundreds of people we had last time. There's ten of us. And there's loads of furniture. Plus the beast… and the girl… hey, the girl! What's her name? Blanche? No, Béatrice! No – no… uh…'

'Belle!' cried Pierre, 'What do we do with her?'

'She is beautiful, isn't she?' murmured a large man called Eric, who was sitting in the corner, 'I don't know what she was thinking, refusing a marriage proposal from someone as handsome as Gaston.' He seemed to gaze off into the distance before asking stupidly, 'Hey, can I have her?'

'What?' replied LeFou, 'we were talking about breaking into the castle, not Belle! We'll decide what to do with her later, right now we have to sort out –'

But no one was listening, as everyone had started talking about what to do with Belle.

'I think we should make her work here, in the tavern!' guffawed one man in the middle of the gang that sat before LeFou, 'God knows what I'd give to have a pretty thing like that serving me drinks!'

'No, you idiot,' snarled another, 'that would be a terrible waste. I had other ideas…'

'You're not suggesting –?'

'Of course he is! And I like it! Maybe we _should_ just keep her for our own… _pleasure_…'

'Sounds good to me, hah!'

Soon the room was filled with ideas on how best, or how badly, to treat Belle. Then the conversation turned to Maurice.

'Don't forget about her father! That raving lunatic should be in the asylum, where he belongs!'

'Couldn't agree more, what with the inventions he comes up with, he's sure to have a screw loose somewhere –'

'QUIET!' bellowed LeFou, over the noise, flushing with anger. The whole room stopped and gaped at him. 'We'll deal with Belle and her loony father later,' he continued, 'but, as I was saying, right now we have to sort out what we're gonna do once and for all! But I can't devise a plan with you all if you keep interrupting and straying off the subject! Do you want the beast _dead_,or not? He's our main priority, and once we finish him off, the rest will be easy.'

He waited until everyone's eyes were upon him before continuing. 'Okay, so here's what we're gonna do. Sneak – _sneak_ – up to the castle doors, pick the lock and try and open the door _as quietly as possible_, and if that doesn't work we'll have no other choice but to either go round the back of the castle or break a window, smash up any furniture that might ambush us, surprise the beast – although if we have to resort to breaking a window he'll probably be expecting us – kill him, kidnap Belle, send her father to the madhouse… job done.' He smiled triumphantly, his eyes gleaming

The rest of the pub cheered at this and raised their mugs in a toast. However reckless this 'plan' sounded, it seemed as though LeFou knew what he was doing.

'Just remember what Gaston said to us before we attacked the first time. "Kill the beast, or die trying"… although methinks it's the beast who will be going down this time. I'm sure of it.'

* * *

><p>Arrgh, sorry for the delay! I know I haven't updated in over a month. . BUT, I've managed to overcome my writer's block (at long last), so hopefully I should be getting a few more chapters up very soon. Apologies for this horribly short chapter, but the next one will be longer, I promise. Thanks for all your reviews, keep them coming!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** After reading some reviews, I've made some minor edits to the last chaper, in the way that LeFou speaks. I haven't hugely altered the dialogue, but I've done things like substitute 'going to' for 'gonna', etc. If you want to go back and have a look at it, go ahead. If not, it doesn't interfere with the plot so don't worry about it. However I have taken onboard what some reviewers have been saying about LeFou and his character so in the coming chapters I will do my best to reintroduce some of his dopiness and his bumbling characteristics.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 7<p>

_Just speak to him._

No.

_Why not?_

He won't want my company. Not after the way I treated him.

_That's no excuse. It's always possible to bury the past and start over._

Humph.

_What is it? Are you scared?_

Scared? Of course not!

_Well I never. Maestro Forte, scared of making amends with little Fife._

I'm not scared! I just don't want to speak to him…

_Coward._

I'm not a coward!

_Then talk to him. Go on. Now._

This was the third time that week Forte had been battling with his conscience. It was only Fife, what was there to be afraid of? After all, he had plucked up the courage to apologise to the master a few weeks ago, and he had been alright with Belle… so what was stopping him from making up with Fife? His former apprentice… who was surely doing fine without him.

No! No, why was he being so… negative? He had been doing considerably well, trying to be civil to the palace inhabitants – he couldn't let someone like Fife stop it all.

Looking up from the organ, he studied the young man scribbling away at his desk, so absorbed in his work. Dare he disturb him?

Yes.

Forte slowly walked over to where Fife was sitting. 'Fife,' he said, his voice shaking a little.

Fife jumped. 'Y – yes, maestro?' he replied, looking innocently up at Forte.

'I… could I speak with you?'

'Um, sure…' Fife giggled nervously.

Forte leant awkwardly against the desk, watching as Fife put down his quill. 'Fife,' he said, struggling over his words, 'I… I know that during the past few weeks we haven't… we –'

He stopped, took a deep breath, and then tried again. Why was it so _difficult_?

'Things have been awkward between us,' he muttered quickly, 'that much is obvious. We have barely spoken to each other ever since I… came back – that doesn't surprise me, however. I'm sure you weren't keen to once again associate yourself with someone who – who tried to –'

'Kill us all,' Fife mumbled quietly, looking away.

'Yes,' Forte whispered, slightly startled at Fife's bluntness. It sounded terrible when it was put like that. He cleared his throat before continuing. 'But, to tell you the truth, Fife... I miss your company.'

Fife stared at Forte, his eyes wide. 'You… you do?' he asked.

Forte nodded. 'I do miss working with you and, well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to forgive me for… the way I've treated you… both before the – incident – and ever since. I understand if you can't, but –'

'Of course I'll forgive you, maestro,' said Fife suddenly, smiling slightly at the now stunned-looking Forte. He had been forgiven… just like that? No questions like Adam, no negotiations like Belle? 'I've missed your company too.' Then he said something that shocked Forte even further. 'I look up to you, you know.'

Whatever Forte had been expecting, it was definitely not that.

'I… I thought you were frightened of me,' he said lamely.

'Well, yes, a little – sometimes. But, maestro, I've always seen you as a – a sort of mentor, really. I… want to be like you.'

Forte stood there, speechless. A moment later he gathered himself and awkwardly laid a hand on Fife's shoulder. 'Well, I… I hope that we can – in the future…'

He trailed off, but Fife nodded and seemed to understand. They gazed at eachother for a few seconds, then Fife checked his watch. 'Seven o'clock,' he said, 'shall we go down to dinner, maestro?'

At the dinner table, Forte made an effort to get more involved in conversation than usual. Something about his brief reconciliation with Fife just moments ago had put a spring in his step. It was as though a void within him had been filled, a missing puzzle piece placed where it should be.

Forte soon found himself listening intently to Lumière's amusing stories about Cogsworth before they both came to work at the palace, occasionally nodding to show he was listening or chuckling slightly at the outrageousness of some of them. Lumière had taken the opportunity to tell the other servants these anecdotes whilst Cogsworth was in the bathroom, having excused himself a few minutes before. Forte was sitting opposite Fife and Lumière and between Mrs Potts and Cogsworth's currently unoccupied seat at the table, stabbing half-heartedly at his food with his fork.

'… An' zen 'e slipped and fell on 'is _derrière _– right in front of ze girl, too!' Lumière was saying, concluding his latest tale, 'I don't know 'oo looked more embarrassed…' This earned a hearty laugh from the other servants, and Lumière immediately launched into his next story.

Just then, a smash was heard and moments later Cogsworth came loudly bursting in through the enormous oak doors of the dining hall, causing everyone to turn their heads at the disruption. The group of servants who had been listening to Lumière's tales cheered when he entered the room, but the smiles were soon gone from their faces. Cogsworth was shaking like a leaf, his face as red as a beetroot, and he was babbling about something and pointing towards the hallway. The whole room went silent.

'Cogsworth, what's the matter?' asked Belle, looking genuinely worried.

'T – t – they're here!' Cogsworth replied nervously, 'It's – it's _them_! You know…'

'Pardon? I don't understand…'

'You know what I mean! He – the little guy – Gaston –'

'You're not making any sense, Cogsworth,' said Adam looking puzzled, 'Gaston's dead. Who's here? Who is it?'

'G – Gaston's _henchmen_… I think they want r – revenge! LeFou's leading them – they've broken into the palace – they're coming – they're coming!'

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><p>Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to wrap up this story over the next two weeks as school starts again in September, and there's only a few more chapters left to go, anyway. Please leave a review, all critiques welcomed! :)<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

The room was silent for a moment, then the panic began. Forte watched as the servants rose quickly to their feet and started hurriedly making their way towards the door. He followed them and was soon caught up in the throng of about forty people running through the corridor until they had all reached the main hallway. Then they all stopped, looking around, and Adam and Belle pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

The windows either side of the main door had been smashed, stained glass littering the tiled floor, and the door itself looked a little loose, as though someone had tried to break the lock but to no avail. It was obvious the palace had been broken into; however there was no sign of LeFou or the other villagers. Forte looked around at the various rooms and corridors leading off of the completely empty hallway. Perhaps the villagers had gone and hidden somewhere else in the castle, waiting to ambush?

It was clear that Adam was thinking the same thing. 'We need to split up,' he said, turning around and addressing the crowd of servants, 'LeFou and his cronies could be anywhere in the palace. Cogsworth, did you see how many of them there were?'

Cogsworth shook his head. 'N – no, master,' he said quickly, 'I was on my way back from the – er – bathroom and had nearly reached the dining hall when I heard a shattering of glass somewhere behind me. I went back up to the top of the corridor and peeked round the corner of the wall into the main hallway and I saw – I caught a glimpse of LeFou climbing in through one of the windows giving orders to some people behind him, most of whom were out of sight at the time. I didn't see much more because I came running back to warn you all.'

'Did they have any weapons?'

'Yes, sir. All sorts of things. Shovels, hammers, candlesticks, bits of rope…'

'Hmm.' Adam pondered for a moment, then spoke. 'Okay. You two,' he pointed to a couple of young scullery maids at the front, 'check the kitchen, and then the cellars below it. But be prepared to find someone, so grab a few knives and things from the kitchen as weapons, just in case. You'll need to defend yourselves' The two maids scuttled off in the direction of the kitchen, seemingly excited at the prospect of attacking people. 'Lumière, Cogsworth,' Adam continued, pointing at them both, 'go to the drawing room and search that area of the castle – thoroughly.' The maître d' and the majordomo ran off through one of the many corridors leading out of the hallway. After directing three more scullery maids, six members of the court orchestra, three cooks, a chef, Babette and Madame Armoire to their designated positions about the castle, he turned to Forte and Fife. 'I trust you both know where I'm going to send you. The music room,' he muttered. The court composers nodded and sprinted off up the stairs without another word.

They reached the second floor corridor and ran as fast as they could to the music room. They passed a number of doors, as well as statues and plants among other pieces of furniture until they came to a halt near the end of the corridor. The decorated door to the music room was slightly open and two male voices could be heard from within. One sounded raspy, as though the man to whom it belonged had several needles lodged in his throat. The other sounded wheezy.

'… no movin' furniture,' the wheezy-voiced man was saying, sounding confused, 'aw, shame, I was lookin' forward to a bit of action!'

'Eh, it's probably just… I dunno, asleep or somethin',' the other man replied.

Forte peered through the small gap between the edge of the door and the wall, Fife standing nervously behind him. The raspy-voiced man was small and scraggly, with mousy hair and a small goatee, and he was holding a lead pipe in his hand. The other was short like his companion and bald. He was holding what looked like a rusty, dangerous-looking pair of pliers and was walking around the front of the organ. Forte heard Fife move around behind him, and then a gold candelabrum was slipped silently into his hand. The mousy-haired man moved out of his line of vision and Forte heard him shuffle to the corner of the room and bang the desk with the pipe.

'C'mon, ya stupid piece of wood, MOVE!' Moments later Forte heard the desk being overturned, sheet music flying everywhere.

'Oh no,' Fife whispered, 'that was my violin sonata!'

'Pierre! Maybe if we provoke it, it might, uh, move?' said the bald man, 'I'd like to see this organ come to life. I mean, that would be cool!' Suddenly, he raised the pliers, just seconds away from bringing it down on the keys of the organ.

'Oh no you don't,' muttered Forte under his breath, 'not the organ!'

Gripping the candelabrum, he swung open the door and ran inside, Fife at his heels.

The bald man and Pierre whipped around to face the two court composers.

'Stay away from the organ!' Forte roared angrily.

'Uh… who are you?' blinked the bald man.

Forte and Fife looked at each other. How stupid _were_ these people? Surely they would have clocked by now that the whole palace had undergone a transformation since their last attack and as a result the servants had been transformed, too?

'We're the, er – _moving furniture_,' Forte sniggered at the men's gobsmacked facial expressions, 'soon after Gaston's death an enchantment that had been placed on the castle years before was lifted. The servants had been turned into pieces of furniture and therefore were changed back… and the beast is now a prince. Sorry to disappoint you.'

'Huh. Well, furniture or not, you're gonna die either way!' said Pierre gleefully, 'you're gonna pay for what you've done!'

'I don't think so,' Fife piped up.

All of a sudden, Pierre ran at Forte, swinging the lead pipe like a sword. Forte dodged and swung the candelabrum at him, bruising his shoulder. Pierre hissed in pain and lunged at Forte again, this time successfully jabbing him in the stomach and knocking him backwards. Forte gasped at the blow and stumbled, his wig falling off in the process to reveal shoulder-length, thinning grey hair, but regained his footing before he hit the ground and ran out of the way before Pierre could get another chance to strike him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fife now battling the bald man, their weapons interlocked. It was clear that one of them would break any second. However, Forte could not afford to keep his eye on Fife as he narrowly missed another attack from Pierre. Forte hit him in the chest, causing him to yelp and angrily kick Forte hard in the shin. Forte's eyes watered in pain and he lost his focus momentarily as his legs gave way and he sank to his knees, the candelabrum flying out of his hand. From somewhere across the room he heard a clunk and a body drop to the floor. That had to be either Fife or the bald man. Suddenly he felt himself being pushed roughly and he landed on his back, bashing his head against the floor. Groaning in pain, he saw Pierre looming over him, grinning, the pipe raised high above his head. Forte braced himself and waited for it to come crashing down on his face.

Suddenly a smash issued from the back of Pierre's head. His eyes rolled backwards into his head and he collapsed to reveal Fife standing behind him, the candelabrum in his hand stained with blood. Fife looked just as shocked at what he had done as Forte did, and he extended an arm to help Forte up. Forte looked around. The bald man was lying on the floor a few meters away, and Fife had a black eye and a gash on his cheek. This didn't seem to faze him, however, as he looked more worried for Forte than himself.

'Are you okay, maestro?' he asked, looking concerned for his friend.

Forte gritted his teeth as he tried to walk, his head pounding from when it had hit the floor. 'I'm fine, Fife,' he muttered, although he looked far from it. He raised his hand to the back of his head and felt a warm, sticky substance flowing out of it. He was bleeding.

Fife looked frightened at the sight of the blood. 'Maestro…' he began, his eyes fixed on Forte's scalp.

'Fife, really, I'll be okay, don't worry,' he said, trying to reassure Fife. He patted his arm. 'You saved my life,' he smiled slightly, 'thank you.'

Fife blushed and looked away. 'Aw, it's nothing…'

Forte took a moment to think about what had just happened. Less than an hour after he had made up with Fife, the castle had been broken into, the two of them had fought alongside each other, and Fife had saved Forte's life. The whole situation seemed… strange, yet oddly satisfying. Forte was glad he had chosen the right time to speak to Fife, and this recent event was sure to have erased any uneasiness that might have existed between them both. Forte suddenly felt closer to Fife than he had been before.

They both stood there for a few minutes until suddenly a shriek of pain and fear coming from upstairs caused them to look sharply up at the ceiling. It was not the scream itself that had startled them; it was who it had come from.

Belle.

* * *

><p>Glad to hear you all enjoyed my last chapter, and your reviews motivated me to get this chapter up as soon as possible. Hopefully you liked it as much as the last chapter!<p>

For those of you who don't know, Madame Armoire is the wardrobe. According to Disney Wiki, 'she was originally a more integral character named Madame Armoire. Her role was later expanded upon and ultimately taken over by Mrs. Potts. Wardrobe is known as Madame de la Grande Bouche in the stage adaptation of the film, where she has a bigger role and was even Cogsworth's love interest.' Also, I'd like to point out that Babette is actually known as Fifi the duster, (and Lumière's girlfriend) in the film, and was named Babette for the musical.

Rinkusu001: Of course I don't mind! I'm actually rather happy and honoured that my fanfiction has inspired fan art, but I'm glad you asked me anyway. I have a deviantART account too, ZoZo1770, same as this one, but I haven't posted many pictures at all as I don't have a scanner at the moment. Would you mind sending me a link to your drawings when they're up? I'm looking forward to seeing them, as I've looked at your other artwork of Forte and I love how you've captured him! :)


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Forte and Fife raced out of the music room, taking their bloodstained makeshift weapons with them. They headed down the corridor and reached the stairs, climbing them as fast as they could. When they got to the level above the one they had just come from, they paused. Raised voices could be heard from behind a closed door at the end of the corridor, and the two composers wasted no time in reaching it. Crouching against the door, they listened.

'… but – but what about the claws and the fangs and the fur –' one voice was saying, but Forte did not recognise who it belonged to.

'I told you, there is no beast! It's me!' replied another voice, which Forte recognised as Adam's. 'We – we should talk about this…'

'I don't wanna talk!' said a third voice, this one being LeFou's, 'Gaston was my best friend!'

'Friend? He acted like your boss. How can you call him a friend after the way he treated you?' asked a fourth voice. This one sounded incredulous, yet, at the same time, it remained gentle. Belle. Thank God she was alright. 'It makes me wonder how you can remain loyal to such a conceited, arrogant –'

'Quiet, you!' growled the first voice, 'don't insult Gaston!' Belle whimpered.

'Hey, don't speak to her like that!' shouted Adam angrily, 'what's your name… Jacques, is it? Just you wait until I get my hands on you –'

Another man guffawed from somewhere else in the room. How many of them _were_ there? 'You won't be doing that in a hurry, pal!'

'Just – let – us – go!' Adam seemed to be struggling against something. It suddenly became clear to Forte that Adam and Belle were being restrained.

'LeFou, just hear me out,' said Belle. There was a pause, and then she continued, 'I know you looked up to him, and practically the whole village regarded him as some sort of hero – but in reality, Gaston was boastful, vain and selfish. He thought about himself and only himself, not caring who got hurt as long as he got what he wanted. And look at the way he treated _you_. Before I came here I saw what he was like towards you. Whenever you made a comment or a joke, he'd shout at you or hit you, and often both. How can you still think of him as a friend? How did you manage to convince yourself that he was a friend to you in the first place?'

There was a silence. Forte had never actually seen this Gaston person, but he had heard a great deal about him and his sidekick, both before the enchantment and after it, but the latter more so. He had heard about his boorish, rude mannerisms and his treatment of those he thought lower than him. He had been told about how shallow he was, choosing Belle to be his bride just because of her looks. He knew about how sexist he was, and Belle herself had told him a couple of weeks ago how Gaston believed that women were only good for being wives and mothers, and had dreamt of having six or seven sons with her.

Forte shuddered at the thought. Women like Belle deserved better than being stuck with men like Gaston. He had been the complete opposite of the beast, and they were both proof that looks weren't everything. Gaston had obviously been handsome on the outside but ugly on the inside. Those who looked at him from a distance would see him as the best, as the local hero. But once one got to know him, he was indeed every bit as arrogant and conceited as Belle had said. Belle had been right about another thing, too: Gaston would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, to ensure his own happiness.

The beast, on the other hand, had been ugly on the outside – yet, Forte had to admit, he had a good heart deep down. His appearance and hot temper may have frightened others, but on the inside, he was a young, insecure man in his twenties, struggling to overcome his hideous exterior. He was a gentleman and he had changed. He thought back to the conversation he had had with the master. _Belle brought out the best in me_. How true. Since Belle had arrived at the castle, his savage ways had improved and had become more disciplined and refined. No matter how much Forte had tried to manipulate him into destroying the rose near Christmas last year, he could not do it because it was Belle's gift that had prompted him to stop. He would do anything to ensure Belle's happiness and had wanted to protect her at all costs.

A sudden scream broke him out of his thoughts.

'No! Adam!' cried Belle. Forte heard a smash, then someone dropped to the floor. Belle and Adam were in trouble.

Forte got up, Fife beside him, and forcefully turned the brass handle of the door. However, something was jammed against the other side. All movement within the room ceased, as though the people inside it sensed someone was coming.

'Fife – Fife, help me open this blasted door!' growled Forte, impatient to enter the room. Together, they pushed the door, but it would not budge. Mustering all his strength, Forte slammed his shoulder against the wood. The object on the other side of the door came away and the door burst open.

They had entered the master bedroom of the palace. It was a good sized, rectangular room, with turquoise walls and a wooden floor. A queen size four-poster bed, flanked by a bedside table on either side, stood in the centre. It had blue and silver hangings decorating it, and a fluffy beige rug lay in front of it. A couple of portraits hung on either side of the room and a dark wooden dresser stood in one corner. There was a half-open door on one side of the room, which lead into the ensuite bathroom, and a doorway on the opposite side which lead to the walk-in wardrobe.

However, the covers on the bed had been thrown off and the hangings were torn, and LeFou was standing, hands on hips, on top of it. A broken chair, now merely a pile of splintered wood, which must have been the object wedged against the door, was situated a few meters away. Belle was struggling beside one of the bedside tables, restrained by a tall man with a moustache, who must have been Jacques. She had a bruise on her cheek and a small cut on her neck, and her dress was torn at the bottom. She looked up in shock when the two composers entered the room, with a gasp of 'Maestro?' Another man, who looked like a walrus, was standing on the rug, which was splattered with blood. He was holding a broken bottle and at his feet lay Adam, blood oozing from under his hair, among other wounds. He was either dead or unconscious; Forte could not be sure which one. He sincerely hoped it was the latter.

'Aw, come on!' LeFou said when he saw Forte and Fife, looking a little disappointed, 'just when you think you've defeated one moron, two more come along! Jeez, don't you lot ever give up?'

Forte snorted. 'How… _naïve_ of you. "Give up"? What, and let you and your group of brainless intruders destroy the palace? I think not.' Forte felt a little guilty when he said that, as he had tried to do the same thing under a year ago. 'And who do you think you're calling "moron"? That's rich, coming from you,' he added.

'Hey!' said LeFou indignantly.

'Well, look at you!' replied Forte, 'did you seriously think that a mere handful of supporters would stand a chance against all the palace servants? I'm sure not many people would have wanted to return after what happened to Gaston, and there's more of us than you.' _Even though Belle and the master were outnumbered before we came_, he finished in his head.

'Yeah, actually we do stand a chance,' LeFou said defiantly, ''cause in case you haven't noticed, we've crushed your, uh, leader here, so, y'know...' He nodded towards Adam's crumpled form.

'L – let Belle go!' said Fife, probably a little more confidently than he felt, but nevertheless he raised the candelabrum in his hand, pointing it at each of the three men in turn.

'You heard him,' said Forte forcefully, 'release her. Now!'

'I don't think so, buddy!' laughed Jacques, and he tightened his grip, twisting Belle's arms behind her back as she winced painfully and struggled even more.

'What ya gonna do?' asked the other man in mock fright, 'you're, I dunno… old! And your shrimp of a sidekick probably won't do much, either.' Fife looked offended.

'You'd be surprised,' Forte muttered. 'Look, what more do you want? You've… _defeated_ the master, are you happy now? Just leave!'

'Nuh-uh,' replied LeFou, shaking his head.

'And I _said_,' repeated Forte through gritted teeth, taking a step forward and raising his weapon, 'release her.'

'Not without a fight!' roared the man gleefully, and a split second later he was running towards Forte, brandishing the bottle. Forte dodged the blow that was aimed at him and the man spun round in rage. He tried again, and this time he was successful in hitting Forte in the face, knocking him into the dresser, which wobbled dangerously, and leaving a deep gash in his cheek. LeFou's henchmen may not have been the brightest of people, but one could not deny their strength, and this man did not seem to care who he tried to kill. In fact, judging by the fact that he was grinning from ear to ear, he seemed to enjoy causing people as much bodily harm as possible.

'Maestro!' Fife cried. He attacked the man, thumping him on the back with the candelabrum. He hissed in pain and rounded on Fife. Forte got up and suddenly found himself face to face with LeFou, who had sprung off the bed with his fists clenched. Forte barely had time to avoid the punch that was aimed at him and staggered backwards. He swung the candelabrum at LeFou and succeeded in striking his upper arm, causing him to squeal in pain. In the background, Forte could see Belle attempting to escape Jacques' firm grip whilst watching the four other men fighting with wide eyes. Forte raised the candelabrum again and aimed for LeFou's chest, but this time he dodged the blow and caught the end of the candelabrum with his chubby hands, attempting to wrestle it off him. After a few seconds, Forte tugged hard, almost lifting LeFou's squat form off the ground. It would have been almost comical if the situation wasn't so serious. By now they had moved to the foot of the bed, directly opposite Belle and Jacques. Forte could see Fife and the other man fighting each other at the end of the room.

Forte succeeded in pulling the candelabrum out of LeFou's clutches, sending him sprawling backwards. After a moment, a dazed-looking LeFou hauled himself up and sprinted towards the broken chair. A split-second later he grabbed a chair leg and hurled it towards Forte. It hit his shoulder and he gasped in pain. Suddenly a soft groan emitted from near his feet. Adam was moving, but only slightly. He was alive! Out of the corner of his eye Forte caught sight of another oncoming chair leg that narrowly missed his head. Forte raised the candelabrum and was seconds away from sending it hurtling towards LeFou, when a loud yet strangled cry from the top of the bed made him turn his head.

Jacques' fingers were closed around Belle's throat. She looked around at everyone in desperation as her eyes widened and her face went slowly blue.

'Stop or I'll strangle her to death,' said Jacques, grinning wildly. By now Fife, LeFou and the other man had also paused mid-fight and were looking towards the distraction.

'Belle…' whispered Adam, very slowly but surely regaining consciousness.

'Drop your weapons!' Jacques ordered. The two composers looked at each other and slowly laid the candelabra they were holding on the ground.

'N – no!' Belle said hoarsely, 'maestros, don't put them down! Don't worry about –'

'Didn't we tell you to BE QUIET?' bellowed the man at the end of the room. All of a sudden he had pulled a short knife out of his pocket. He raised his arm and aimed the knife at Belle.

'NO!' roared Forte.

Before he had time to think, Forte had flung himself in front of Belle, knocking her into the bedside table, into the way of the knife which was now plunging towards him. A fraction of a second later, pain shot through one side of his chest as the knife pierced his flesh and he collapsed, a patch of crimson blood seeping through his white shirt. Gasping in agony, he caught a glimpse of Fife's shocked and frightened face before darkness enveloped him completely.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I tried my best to keep everyone in character, particularly LeFou, although you have to remember that he's got revenge on his mind so I imagine he'd try not to be as dopey as usual. Plus he's quite a hard character to write. Anyway, let me know what you think and leave a review!<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Blackness. That was all he saw. All around. No colour. Instead, a lack of it.

Just black.

Then, suddenly, a light, in the distance. A small, round ball of light. It was coming closer. Forte moved – he _floated_ – towards it. Floated?

So, this was what it felt like. Dying. Properly, this time. What they said was true. Was he going to Hell? He must be, because as it got closer, he saw that the light was red. Red was a hellish colour, wasn't it? Symbolising fire, blood, anger, pain. Those who saw a white light must be going to Heaven.

He supposed he deserved it. He had, after all, tried to kill everyone and destroy the castle under a year ago. This was his punishment. But a small part of him couldn't help but wish that his actions over the past few weeks had somehow helped him to redeem himself. The last thing he did on Earth was jump in the way of a knife about to kill someone, surely that would count for something? Obviously not.

The light was only a few feet away now. It came closer and closer and was growing larger and larger until it was big enough for him to step through it. He did so, bracing himself for the flames, leaping high into the air; the cracked, parched ground; the caves and caverns for miles around; the screams prisoners being tortured, paying for their sins, and Satan himself.

But it never came.

Suddenly he was in the dark, eerie forest outside the castle, watching Belle in a wedding dress running fearfully from a stranger, his face hidden by shadows. They soon came to a clearing and the moonlight threw light upon the man chasing Belle. He had a strong build and was wearing a white shirt with a black necktie, a brown waistcoat, a red jacket with a gold lining, white breeches and brown boots. He was handsome and had long hair which was tied back with a gold ribbon.

Then the scene changed. Forte and Mrs Potts were sitting in the lounge, talking to a twelve-year-old Prince Adam.

'You lied to me!'

'Come on, now, love, it was all for the best.'

'You lied; you told me he had gone away to work, and that he would be back. How could you?'

The young prince was close to tears.

'Master, you were six years old – hardly old enough to know the truth just yet. It is understandable that you are upset, but –'

'Of course I'm upset, Forte!' Adam stood up, 'now I know I'll never see my father again because he's _dead_! He killed himself because I obviously wasn't good enough for him, I was never –'

'Master, I –'

'It's true, though, isn't it?'

'I hardly think that –'

But it was no use. The young prince had stormed off.

The scene melted away again. This time, Forte found himself standing on the edge of one of the castle towers holding a dagger in his right hand. As Belle was embracing the beast a few meters away, he ran forwards and thrust the dagger into its back, laughing loudly as the creature roared in pain. However, his triumph was short-lived as he lost his footing and fell off the edge of the tower, plunging down to his death at the foot of the castle.

Before he hit the ground, the scene shifted once more. He was in the dark throne room of the castle, watching the master engaged in a fierce battle with… _the beast_. With his former self. Both of them were covered in each other's blood.

He watched as the prince dodged the beast's attacks, narrowly escaping a few by no more than a couple of inches. After a minute or two, the beast swiped Adam with a massive paw, sending him flying. Forte watched in horror as he hit the wall and slid down it, unmoving.

'Master!' he yelled, wide-eyed.

The beast whipped around at Forte's cry and immediately darted towards him. Forte had no time to think before he, too, was knocked to the ground. The beast unsheathed its claws and drove them into his chest. Pain exploded throughout his body as he screamed, writhing in pain underneath the hideous creature looming over him.

_No…_

That voice! Who did it belong to? However, another wave of pain jolted Forte out of his thoughts. The pain wouldn't stop. _Why wouldn't it stop?_

_Help him… please…_

He wished it would end. Then he realised. It _had_ ended. He surely was in Hell, or a twisted version of it, anyway. It may not be how he imagined it, but the Devil was still tormenting him. The voice he had just heard was tormenting him.

_Dying? He can't be… can he?_

What _was_ the voice saying? He was already dead! This was his punishment, to lie here helplessly forever, the beast mauling him ruthlessly, knowing that it would never cease, and to listen to the gentle voice pleading with someone, growing more and more desperate.

_No… look at him! He's – help him, do something! Don't just stand there and watch him – there must be _something_ you can do!_

Something _who _could do? Ah. Satan. Of course. It was he who was in charge of him, after all. The agony was unbearable now, and his body was a bloody mess.

_No… maestro… don't… please…_

The voice was growing weaker. Had it given up?

_Is he…? Shh! Look! Is he saying something?_

Saying? Screeching in pain, more like! He watched, wide-eyed, as the beast towered over him, baring its fangs in a snarl. It raised its paws high, and a second later they were coming down on his face which was about to be beaten to a pulp. They were a hair's breadth away now –

'Maestro? _Maestro Forte! _Look, Adam, he's alive!'

Forte's eyes suddenly snapped open.

He was lying in a comfortable bed in a large, unfamiliar room. It had mint green walls and chocolate coloured furniture was dotted about the place. At the foot of the bed stood a small, plump man holding a stethoscope – clearly a doctor. He wore a monocle and had a bushy moustache. Belle was seated beside the bed, staring wide-eyed down at Forte. She had a bandage around her neck and looked a little pale, and the minor cuts and bruises on her face hadn't completely healed yet, but aside from that she looked well. Adam was standing on the other side of the bed. The blood had been cleaned off his face and his arm was in a sling.

Forte himself was in his undershirt, a bandage wound tightly around his chest, half-covered by the thick blankets on the bed.

This was all completely real. He had merely been _dreaming_.

'Where… am I?' he asked weakly.

'Just one of the palace guest rooms,' replied Adam.

Forte tried to sit up, but his head throbbed and he fell back onto the pillows. His chest twinged he winced painfully.

'Don't try to move,' replied the doctor at the edge of the bed, coming forwards, 'you need all the rest you can get.'

'How… how long have I been here?'

'About a couple of days. We nearly lost you – we weren't sure if you were going to make it just now. Missed your heart by centimetres, that knife did.'

'How long before he's up and about?' asked Adam.

'Not for a while yet!' replied the doctor. He addressed Forte, 'what you need is food and plenty of rest. I've tried telling these two,' he gestured to Belle and Adam, 'to leave you in peace, but they refused. Wouldn't leave your side for a moment.'

Adam blushed as Forte met his eyes. 'I see...' he replied quietly.

'I think I'd better get going,' said the doctor, checking his watch and heading towards the door. Before he reached it, he stopped and turned around to speak to Forte. 'If you really must get up, make sure you spend _no more than two hours_ out of bed at any one time. Those wounds of yours are nasty, and they'll need quite a bit of time to heal. I'll be back in a couple of days, though, so I'll know if you've been overdoing it. Good day.'

And with that, he swept from the room.

At that moment, both Belle and Adam opened their mouths to speak. It was clear that they had both been waiting for the doctor to leave before explaining everything.

'Tell me what happened,' Forte cut in, looking from Belle to Adam, 'LeFou, his comrades, the servants, what happened to them all after I… you know…' he looked away and felt his face go red. 'Did the servants survive? I know there were a lot of us compared to LeFou and his gang, but they were strong.'

There was an uneasy silence. 'Babette and Angelique were killed,' Adam whispered finally, to Forte's horror, whilst Belle nodded morosely. 'After you – you saved Belle, Cogsworth came bursting in, panic-stricken, stating that a chandelier had fallen on Babette and had killed her instantly. He and Lumière had witnessed it happen. Lumière refused to leave Babette there and stayed with her, grieving, and so Cogsworth came to find us on his own.'

'And Angelique?'

'Killed by one of LeFou's cronies.'

'Adam woke up and quickly won a fight against Jacques, so before we knew it, it was Cogsworth, Fife, Adam and I against LeFou and the other man, I forget his name,' continued Belle, 'needless to say, they were outnumbered. It was only those two left by then, as everyone else in the gang was either dead, unconscious, or had fled from the palace for the second time. The pair of them soon followed suit. I think it's safe to say they won't be coming back again.'

'What happened after?' inquired Forte.

'Well, you were our first priority,' said Belle, 'we took you to the nearest guest room and sent for the doctor immediately. He told us to prepare for the worst, it's a miracle you're alive! Two deaths were bad enough; I couldn't face a third one. Especially after you had just – just – and I would never have got to –'

Belle stopped, near tears, and looked away. After a moment, she gulped and looked back at Forte, her eyes watery.

'Seeing you just now, I thought this really was the end. The way you were moving around on the bed, muttering, half-asleep, perhaps dying – and the doctor wasn't doing anything! He wouldn't – he was just standing there, watching, saying that you probably _were_ dying, and that it would be best if we should just…'

She trailed off. Suddenly it all made sense to Forte. That pleading, desperate voice he had heard – he hadn't imagined it! It had been Belle!

'Thank you, maestro,' she whispered, 'you risked your life to save mine. I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for you. I'm in your debt.'

There was another silence. Forte looked away and felt himself go red. 'It's nothing,' he muttered, before quickly changing the subject, 'How is Lumière?'

'Heartbroken,' answered Adam truthfully, 'we all are. But for him, losing Babette was… well, you know how much she meant to him. All he's been doing is sitting in his room all day, only coming down for dinner. Even then, he avoids everyone's eyes.'

That sounded oddly familiar.

'And Angelique was close to him, too. The funerals for both of them will be held tomorrow.'

'And the palace? How much damage did LeFou do?'

'It's nothing we can't fix,' said Adam.

Forte nodded. 'Where's Fife?' he asked suddenly, looking wildly about the room, 'is he okay?'

'Oh, yes!' said Belle, 'he's in the room downstairs. Don't worry, he's fine. He's been worried sick about you, too. Shall I go fetch him? He's probably dying to see you!'

'Of course,' said Forte, smiling slightly. Belle grinned and hurried out of the room. Adam watched her go before sitting in the now vacant chair beside the bed. He turned to Forte.

'Maestro?'

Forte looked at Adam in surprise. He hadn't called him 'maestro' in over ten years. It had always been 'Forte'.

'Yes, sir?'

'I… I owe you an apology.'

'And I, you –'

'No! No, just – just listen.' Adam took a deep breath, 'you know how I still didn't trust you after you returned. Even after you came to speak to me… I still had my doubts. But your actions a few days ago proved me wrong. I didn't catch much of what happened because I was still practically out cold, but I heard a scream and the next thing I knew someone had dropped to the floor. When I got up and saw what had happened, I was in shock. I think everyone was, even Jacques and LeFou, because of what had just happened and how fast it had been. When I saw you just lying there, I felt so… guilty. Like Belle said, you could have been dead and I never would have gotten a chance to make things up with you. You might have died resenting me, or thinking I resented you… and I would have never known. I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, maestro.'

Forte gazed at Adam. For the first time in over a decade, he did not see a prince, strong and handsome and ready to rule a country. No, instead, he was staring into the large blue eyes of a little boy who had now come back and seen him as more than just the palace composer, but a teacher, a mentor. A child who knew he had been in the wrong and had come to ask for forgiveness. A child that Forte had missed so much all these years.

He remembered once again Belle's words. _I know that, deep down, the young, child-like, curious, innocent little boy is still there inside him._

'I forgive you,' he said simply.

The child smiled.

_I think _you_ are the only person who can bring him out again_

He just had.

A few silent moments passed. It was not an awkward silence, but a comfortable one. The atmosphere was pleasant, unlike many previous situations before.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Fife, followed by a grinning Belle, came running into the bedroom. 'Maestro!' he cried happily, and pulled Forte's frail frame into a firm hug. He released him quickly, however, when he realised he was hurting him slightly. Forte chuckled as Fife blushed, fidgeting.

For the first time in a year, Forte felt truly glad to be alive.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed that chapter! I just couldn't bring myself to kill Forte off but, to make it slightly more realistic, as you have just read, I did kill off a couple of minor characters.<p>

I did want to leave it on a cliffhanger for a few weeks, but I didn't mean to leave it this long, so sorry for the delay.

Only a couple more chapters to go now! Please leave a review, they make me so happy!


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The next few weeks passed quickly, and Forte was growing stronger day by day. The funerals for Babette and Angelique were held, and the two of them were buried side by side on the castle grounds. Lumière often spent his time at their graves, mourning. Forte felt sorry for him; how terrible it must have been for him to lose his closest friends so suddenly! However, the fact that Christmas was drawing near had cheered up the whole palace, especially Lumière, enabling him to take his mind off things.

Christmas. Last year's had been a disaster, Forte thought to himself while sitting at the organ one afternoon. He had nearly wrecked the castle and killed everybody within it. However, that was in the past. He had been forgiven, and was determined to help make this the best Christmas yet. The beast was human and the servants were happy. He would not ruin it for them. Not this time.

But what should he give the master? A piece? Forte shuddered. Last time he had composed something, the prince had turned his nose up at it and –

_No_. That was over ten years ago. Adam had _changed_ since then. Besides, that piece _had_ been a little depressing, Forte admitted. What about a proper symphony? Involving the whole orchestra, not the organ? And in a major key, of course. It was about time he wrote something happy. Should he risk it?

Yes, definitely.

Forte got straight to work. Using his finest quill and his newest manuscript paper, he carefully began to write out the first movement, starting with a solo piccolo, then gradually building up until the page was filled with musical notes for every instrument the court orchestra had to offer. Strings, flutes, timpani, the lot. Forte could hear it inside his head – it sounded marvellous, full of arpeggios and chords. The second movement, Forte decided, would be a waltz. Not too slow, mind, but a comfortable walking pace. Lots of strings and a jolly tune. And the third movement? Very quick – he would stretch the orchestra members a little. Very precise ornaments dotted about the music, leading up to a grand finale!

Forte worked late into the night and got up first thing the following morning to continue, working as hard as he could. He spent all his time in the music room apart from mealtimes, and carried on day after day until at last, two weeks later, his masterpiece was finished. He was sure the master would be pleased.

Forte exited the music room to find the rest of the servants decorating for Christmas, which was now only a couple of days away. Although it was not the same without Angelique, who had, after all, been the palace decorator, they were all doing a splendid job. As he descended the stairs he saw Mrs Potts, who was busy wrapping tinsel around the bannisters.

'May I help?' Forte asked her.

'No need to ask, dear!' Mrs Potts replied warmly. She pointed to a crate a couple of metres away. 'In there, there are some hangings and ribbons. Could you untangle them for me?'

'Of course.'

Before long, Forte had sorted out the jumbled mess of fabric and went to help Cogsworth with the Christmas tree. By eight o'clock that evening, the servants had finished decorating and the palace looked wonderful. There were hangings on the walls and tinsel on the picture frames. On each door there was a wreath and a huge fir tree stood grandly in the ballroom, decorated with baubles, fruit, angels, snowflakes, and a glass star on top. The table in the dining hall had been laid with shiny new cutlery, the finest china plates and bowls and golden, diamond-encrusted goblets, reserved only for special occasions. Floors had been swept and corners had been dusted, and every piece of furniture had been polished.

Tired, Forte went to bed early that night.

Christmas Eve was spent making sure everything was ready. The furniture was given a last minute dusting, the cutlery on the dining hall table was straightened to perfection, and chairs were set out for the court orchestra to play in the ballroom the following day. Forte spent his time touching up his symphony and making sure it sounded as best it could. When he had finished, the only thing left to do was wait until tomorrow.

oOo

'Merry Christmas, maestro!'

Forte was woken the next morning by Chip bouncing around the palace excitedly. Forcing himself out of bed, he washed, got dressed into his best clothes and went downstairs to join the others for a large breakfast. Everyone was in a good mood and Forte allowed himself to be caught up in conversation with Cogsworth and Fife.

After breakfast, gifts were exchanged. Everyone went to the ballroom, by far the largest room in the palace, where there was a large pile of presents underneath the elaborately decorated tree. Everyone took turns opening their gifts until, finally, it was Forte's turn to present his gift to the master.

The orchestra members took their seats and got ready to play. Forte walked slowly, nervously, up to the rostrum in front of the orchestra, praying the master would enjoy what he was about to hear. Taking a deep breath, he waved his baton, and the music started.

A piccolo sounded from the middle of the group of musicians. It grew louder and was suddenly joined by a flute, an oboe and cellos. The number of instruments grew until everyone was playing a loud yet light-hearted tune. Forte noticed, about a minute into the piece, that he had not been interrupted, which had to be a good sign. He continued to conduct the orchestra until the first movement came to a quiet end. A pleasant waltz soon followed and Forte half closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. The waltz finished after a while and there were a few moments of silence before the whole orchestra suddenly burst into song, beginning the third movement. The music got louder and louder and faster and faster until it came to a grand end.

As soon as the music ceased, the others applauded enthusiastically. However, Forte looked directly at Adam, anxious to see his reaction. The prince was beaming. Relieved, Forte stepped gracefully off of the platform and went to join him.

'Forte, that was wonderful!' Adam said delightedly, 'Thank you!'

Forte bowed in response, smiling to himself. He had enjoyed it!

Afterwards, everyone exited the ballroom and went down to the dining hall, where a spectacular Christmas feast was waiting. Once again, the cooks failed to disappoint. Every type of food one could want was on the table – turkey, chicken, duck, stuffing, assorted vegetables, fruits, cheese, bread, gravy, cranberry sauce – everything. Everyone sat down, and Adam, who was seated at the head of the table, raised his glass.

'Merry Christmas!' he said, grinning. 'Merry Christmas!' everyone replied, also raising their glasses. Adam's eyes met Forte's for a second, and Forte knew that the young prince he had once known and loved had come back.

This time, however, he was here to stay.

* * *

><p>Well, that's all folks!<p>

Or is it? I'm thinking about whether or not to write an epilogue. Should I? Leave a review and convince me!

Also, apologies for the delay. My laptop broke, so I had to rewrite this. -_-

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


	12. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

'Good afternoon, maestro!'

Forte stopped playing at the organ and turned around. A small brown-haired boy with striking blue eyes was bounding eagerly towards him. He wore a cream coloured shirt, navy breeches, light grey tights and brown shoes. Forte dipped his head in acknowledgement.

'Good afternoon, Master Antoine.'

Antoine hopped up onto the large stool next to the older man.

'I know you've been practising,' said Forte approvingly, 'I can often hear it throughout the palace. You're improving.'

The boy blushed, fidgeting.

'You do enjoy the pieces I set you, yes?' inquired Forte. 'After all, it is important that you enjoy the music that you play so that you can… _connect_ with it better. If you don't, we can do something else.'

'No, it's fine, maestro, I like my pieces very much! Papa enjoys them, too.'

Forte nodded wordlessly, staring at the keys of the organ.

'But…'

Forte looked at Antoine. 'But…?'

'Well, maestro, I was wondering if… well, I… was talking to Papa yesterday and he told me about a symphony you wrote for him… about seven years ago, for Christmas! He told me he thought that was one of his favourite _ever _presents and…' Antoine hesitated for a few moments, 'and he looked so happy when he described it!'

Forte smiled slightly, his eyes shining.

'He told me about the different instruments that played and how he and Mama and all the servants, _everyone_ was in the ballroom, listening. He said that you're a really great composer and that he's really lucky to have you around!'

Forte's smile grew wider.

'_So_… I was thinking… instead of studying Bach and Scarlatti and everyone like that… could you play me one of _your_ pieces? I mean I like Bach and stuff, it's just…'

'But, Master Antoine… surely you've heard my pieces for the organ…?'

'Not _properly_, though. Only when you're in the middle of writing them, practicing in here. It's not the same. I want to hear one, and to learn how to play it. Please…?'

'Of course, Master, if that is what you would like.'

Antoine's face lit up. 'Great!' he exclaimed, 'let's start now!'

oOo

'How is Antoine coming along, maestro?' Asked Adam that night as he sat opposite Forte in the library after dinner.

'Excellently, Master,' Forte replied, fingering a book of oboe concertos, 'he has a natural talent and is always surprisingly eager to play. I've never seen anything like it. Usually young children like him do not care for the organ anymore but he… he is different. He could grow up to be a fantastic organist if he carries on like this.'

'I was talking to him about you yesterday, funnily enough,' said Adam lightly.

'Yes, he said.'

Adam nodded, smiling. 'He thinks you're wonderful, you know that?'

Forte fidgeted, turning the book over in his hands. 'Well… I haven't taught in years, I didn't think I was that good…' he began

'No, he really likes you!'

Forte went quiet. Even after seven years, he still found this a little difficult to believe. He had never been very good with children. 'He reminds me a lot of you when you were about his age,' he said, looking up at his master, 'not just in looks, but in personality, too. His eagerness to play, his innocence, his _energy_… you and Belle should be very proud of him.'

Adam grinned. 'Of course we are! Hopefully he will set a good example to the new baby on the way, too.'

'I am sure he will,' said Forte kindly.

All went quiet. After a few pleasant moments of comfortable silence, Adam spoke.

'I think I'd quite like a girl,' he said conversationally. Forte nodded in response, not quite sure what to say. 'Yes, a little girl, for Belle,' he continued, 'but another boy would be great as well. It doesn't really matter to me, though. I know I'll love that child whatever happens… It seems so… strange. I mean, ten years ago I was a hideous, frightening _monster_ with a terrible personality and no hope of finding love at all. Look how much has changed! I'm married to a beautiful woman who accepted me just as I was, with one gorgeous child and another on the way… I'm so _blessed _to have everyone here at the palace… I wouldn't swap it for the world.'

Suddenly, the door opened and Belle walked in, humming to herself happily. She waltzed over to Adam and Forte, her lilac dress twirling around her pregnant figure.

'I'm going to put Antoine to bed, he's quite sleepy,' she laughed.

'You should get some rest too,' replied Adam, gesturing to her swollen belly, 'you don't want to wear yourself and the baby out too soon!'

'Don't worry about me for the moment; I've got plenty of time yet,' said Belle, 'I only came in because Antoine insisted on you both coming up to his room so he could say goodnight to you. He was too tired to come all the way down here.'

Adam and Forte stood up, pleased that Antoine had thought of them. Smiling at each other, they followed Belle out of the library, up to Antoine's room. Adam had been right, Forte thought… so much had _definitely_ changed… for the better.

* * *

><p>It's finished, everyone! Thank you to all who have reviewed, especially those who have taken the time to review every chapter! A big thank you to The Green Archer for all her deeply thought out reviews and constructive criticism, too. :)<p>

Please review and Merry Christmas!


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